


Dive For Your Memory

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, F/M, Heavy Angst, Underworld spec fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: “And just who would be the hero in this particular scenario?”“You. Killian Jones.” Something in the way her lips curled upwards at the mention of his name sent a shiver down his spine, skin prickling in response.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for emmafoundtallahassee/sheriffchiselchin on tumblr as part of the CS secret santa. title from The Go-Betweens song of the same name.

“Magic? I’m sorry love, but I don’t follow you.” Killian Jones eyed the blonde warily. True it wasn’t every day such a beauty crossed his path, especially in a town where everything was a suffocating grey. But surely that wasn’t reason enough to abandon all wit once said beauty started spouting nonsense about magic.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. The hero never believes at first, anyway.” The blonde smiled at the young man to her left, memories dancing in their eyes.

“And just who would be the hero in this particular scenario?”

“You. Killian Jones.” Something in the way her lips curled upwards at the mention of his name sent a shiver down his spine, skin prickling in response.

“I’m no hero,” his head shaking sadly at the thought. “Perhaps you have me confused with someone else.”

“Not a chance.” Her eyes were defiant and sparkling now, unquestioning. Eyes the same shade as the sea glass that would always catch his fancy whenever he walked along the shore.

“Tell me then, love. Just who are you?”

“Emma. Emma Swan. This is Henry, my son.” She gestured to the teenager, the look on his face every bit as determined as his mother’s.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve never had the pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lighthouse to man.” The air seemed to grow colder the moment he turned away from her, bones inexplicably leaden.

“Do you mind if we join you?” Before a response could pass his lips, she was striding towards the white brick tower of his post.

Her audacity astounded him. As he followed the sharpness of the wind and the violent sway of the trees caught his attention. Change was in the very air it seemed. The path wasn’t particularly treacherous, but a small pang of worry came over him as he watched her slip on the hill. A moment of relief washing over him when she recovered her step a moment later, hands dusty with earth.

“You wish to join me staring out into the sea through the night, because you think I’ll have a hand in restoring magic to this place, as I’m a hero?” The words strung together like that really were ludicrous. Maybe it was all an elaborate joke.

“Yep. Although the magic bit is really just to get you back to the world you where you belong.” Henry had remained strangely silent throughout the exchange, pausing only to smirk at Killian’s increasing bewilderment at his mother’s words.

“Care to explain why you’re so invested as to where I belong?” Mother and son followed him inside and up the steps of the weathered tower, the heel of Emma’s boots drumming a rhythm into his temple with her ascent. They wasted no time filing in behind him once they reached the top.

“Because I don’t intend to stop fighting for my happy ending. Or yours.” Killian turned to her at that, thoughts buzzing to the surface like honey bees drawn to a flower. How could he have a happy ending when he hadn’t found a beginning?

“I don’t understand,” he dismissed the hope as quickly as it began to burn in his chest.

“You will.”

He was almost inclined to believe her.

  
***

 

Lighthouses were never meant to house more than a solitary existence. Killian wasn’t even sure how he had ended up in such an antiquated job. He supposed there was something faintly poetic about it. The man who never mattered to anyone having a hand in keeping strangers safe from harm.

Lighthouses weren’t meant to house a woman whose face shone brighter than the sun. Not a woman leaving ghosts of another world thickening the air between them.

“Do you sail?” Emma Swan sat cross-legged on the floor, back up against the curved timber wall. Henry’s eyebrows flickered upwards at her question.

“No.”

“Really? I would think someone who mans a lighthouse would be drawn to travel the seas.” This wasn’t merely polite conversation. She was watching him like a hawk watches its prey, unflinching and ready. It unsettled him.

“Perhaps I did in another life. Honestly I can’t recall how I fell into the profession.”

“I wonder if the other life has the answers.” Henry piped up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He was certain he didn’t have the energy to fend off two inquisitors, magical or otherwise.

“I wouldn’t put much stock in old sayings, lad.”

“Does the town see many ships?” Emma took up the conversation again, her hands drawn to clasping the ring hanging from a chain around her neck.

“Not many, no. Though there are local fishermen trawling all hours.”

“We saw a man early this morning down at the docks. He didn’t look too impressed with us.” Henry piped up. Another glance that could only be described as knowing passed from son to his mother, Killian narrowing his eyes at them in response.

Killian decided to busy himself by lighting the small gas stove in the corner of the room, his other arm reaching for the large blue kettle hanging from a hook above his head. An orange glow crept its way along his hands, the sun beginning to set. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he turned to cast a glance behind him, Emma startling at his movement having broken her stare. He thought he felt her eyes burning into him.

“Can I offer my assistance in exchange for a cup of coffee? I feel like I’ve been awake for a week.” Emma joked, springing up from her spot on the floor; the shadows underneath her eyes lending truth to the statement.

“I’m afraid I only have tea. Never been much of a coffee drinker.”

“Does it have any caffeine?”

“Aye.”

“Then I’d be grateful for it.” Emma’s eyes sparkled, the hint of a smile present behind her lips. Killian blinked, trying to comprehend the fluttering in his chest. Maybe the oddity was the fact that this woman actually looked at him, her eyes warm and open. No one ever looked at him so much as through him.

Henry cleared his throat as a waiting smile crept across Emma’s face. The whistle of the kettle calling out, sharp and insistent. Killian found three mugs in a cupboard and busied himself placing a teabag in each. He refused to turn around this time as he felt the familiar prickle of her gaze, teaspoon tapping impatiently as he waited to fish the teabags out. He nearly let out a huff of annoyance when she moved to stand to his left, waiting with him.

As Emma leaned forward to help carry the tea, the ring around her neck fell across his hand. The metal gracing his skin hot as the tea steaming in tendrils now. A jolt of electricity suddenly spiked up his forearm, coming to rest behind his eyes as visions swam around him.

_Sunlight streamed from a window, across a man in uniform (a naval officer, by the look of things) sat on the floor, his arms around a fallen man. The perspective shifted, nausea curling into his stomach._

_“Liam! LIAM! No no no no no…. Help! HELP!”  Killian felt his own throat raw at the thundering words. The lifeless man’s chestnut curls sparking a synapse in his brain, like a giant waking from his slumber. A wetness seeped into Killian’s cheeks as he tried to reconcile the sight with the emotions coursing through him. Grief sat immovable in his chest, breaths like shards of glass against his lungs._

_A moment later and Killian realized it was his own voice booming from the man walking across the deck of a large ship, the eyes of the crew brimming with adoration at his words._

_“They took my brother from me, and now I’m going to take everything they’ve got.”_

_Cheers thundered in his ears as the view of the sea dissolved into the walls of his lighthouse._

“Killian?” Emma had a hand his arm, brow furrowed questioningly. The sound of her voice impossibly soft to his ears, blood still pulsating in his temple.

He had stumbled from the stove with a mug in hand, blinking in realisation as the scalding tea that had splashed over the side dripped onto the floor. The sear of the fresh burn along his thumb edging away his confusion. 

“Your ring-,” Killian stammered, recoiling from Emma’s concern. “I saw things when it touched me. Visions of some place I’ve never been.” 

Emma’s hand curled protectively around the ring. “What kind of visions?” came the low, clipped response. The green of her eyes seemed to glow brighter as she awaited his answer.

“Disturbing ones. I could feel-,” Killian stopped short with a dismissive nod of his head. “Whatever magic you’re trying to wield, I want no part of it.”

“It’s not what you think, I promise.” Her eyes brimming with tears twisted something inside him, the back of his throat gripped as if in a vise. “I’d like to explain more about why we’re here, if you’ll let me.”

Killian marvelled at the sadness of the two strangers, both having shown more emotion in the last hour than he had seen as far as he could remember. If trouble lies ahead at least it will be interesting.

“Against my better judgement, I’ll hear you out,” Killian said, squinting his distrust. “But don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.” Emma’s smile of reply could definitely be classified as trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to kat2609, isilweth, and lifeinahole27 for their invaluable feedback and encouragement <3

“Any time you’d like to start is fine by me, love,” Killian huffed tersely, taking a seat opposite the pair. His eyes flickered between Emma’s face and the darkening sky.

“Right. Well, there’s a lot to get through.” Emma stood fidgeting with the ring a moment before sitting beside Henry, having not moved from his position cross-legged on the floor.

“I gathered that.” Killian began absently picking at the skin around his fingers, determined to give away no more information than was absolutely necessary.

“Can I ask you something first, though?” Emma licked her lips nervously. Killian shrugged away the fleeting moment of familiarity at the sight, focusing his eyes to the middle distance.

“I suppose that may help the conversation along, sure.”

“Are you happy here?”

“That seems a fairly unusual place to start. I do hope this isn’t going to deteriorate into religious conversion.”

“Glad to see you’ve retained some of your trademark snark.”  She managed to stop her eyes from rolling, but only just.

“I have a follow up question,” Henry piped up, breaking the unwavering stare between Emma and Killian. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’d like you to answer mine first, Killian.” Her green eyes were ablaze with emotion; lips now a thin line. His name on her lips again caused an automatic shudder down his spine; he found himself almost welcoming the shiver.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I haven’t led a particularly interesting life. Make of that what you will.” His jaw twitched reflexively, neck stiffening. How did it get so bloody hot? He never felt this warm on duty.

“What kind of life have you led?” Emma asked, her voice brittle.

“I thought you were supposed to know all about me. Or is that all part of the ruse?” He flashed her a grin, although it bordered on a grimace. She hissed a breath through her teeth.

“I just meant…” Emma sighed, the wind gone from her sails. “Listen, you’re clearly not the same Killian you were when you- when you left us.” The life died in her eyes as she stared at the floor. “I wanted to know what, if anything, you remember about your beginnings.”

Killian swallowed hard, his heart suddenly fluid flowing through his limbs. This was new. This innate empathy in the presence of another person. Was this magic’s doing? Pulling raw emotion from him like removing tiny wooden splinters from his skin. “I don’t know. Like I said, there hasn’t been much of interest to keep track of.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Henry’s question caused Killian and Emma’s heads to whip around, oddly in sync, stares equally incredulous. “That was my question. From before.”

Emma’s laughter came in fits, cheeks rosy and round.

“That is possibly an even stranger line of questioning than I could have imagined,” Killian chuckled despite himself. “The answer’s no, lad.”

Henry’s arched eyebrow set Emma off into another spurt of giggles. Killian was certain she was completely exhausted or mad, perhaps both. “No rings, no tattoos, no- _other_ defining characteristics. Interesting.” The boy looked rather satisfied with his assessment.

“I wasn’t aware it was a competition,” Killian sighed. “What tattoos have you lot got?”

“Just this one.” Emma found her composure and got to her feet, closing the distance between them to offer a closer view of the flower on her wrist. She bent forward, offering her hand. His fingers brushed against her skin and he was transported; violently ripped into another consciousness.

_A sweet, thick scent filled his senses as Killian felt his arm twist and stretch. Needles bound together, dripping ink as they sank into his skin. A flask was thrust into his view as he greedily took a swig, rum burning acute numbness down his throat. His hazy vision made out the outline of a heart on his forearm, a name slowly being hammered into it via thousands of pinpricks._

_Across from him a woman stood smiling, chestnut hair cascading in waves over her leather bodice. “Hang in there, Captain,” came the taunt, comfortable and loving in its teasing. The woman hooked a thumb in the belt of her trousers, exposing a filigreed set of initials on her hip. KJ he noted, head pounding._

_“’E’s ‘aving visions again. Bet it’s her,” a booming voice barked beside him. “Drink up, Captain. You’ll avenge Milah yet.”_

_The woman faded from view as his eyes fell to his arm. A dagger now pierced the heart of his tattoo._

“Killian?”

The ragged breathing drew his attention first, though it took him a moment to realize it was his own. Emma was kneeling beside him, palm pressed hesitantly to his chest. His lungs felt as though they were going to burst out of him and into the heavens, clawing their way towards air.

“Why are you doing this?” The words erupted more as a feral growl than a plea for understanding. He had gotten to his feet somehow, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“What? Killian, I’m not doing this. You must be…remembering things.” She rose slowly, her eyes following the curve of his neck as he turned his attention back to the sea.

“Remembering things? Things that clearly have never happened to me, conveniently after a strange woman shows up talking about magic.” Killian’s breath was steadying with every punctuated word.

“I promise you they have happened.”

“Pity my tattoo must have gotten up and walked away, then.”

Emma’s brow furrowed, eyes millions of miles away. “Let’s go, kid. We’ve imposed on Killian long enough.”

“Mom – you can’t be giving up already.” Henry looked around helplessly, slipping a notebook back in his pocket.

“I’m not. But I think it’s time we talked to someone who may be able to help Killian remember.” Emma smiled, closing half the distance between her and the man brooding into his spyglass.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Emma admitted, “and I get it. I just want you to know I would never hurt you.”

Her words had cut him to the quick but before he could compose himself to face her, they had gone.

***

 

Morning meant he should get up. It was rare he even slept, apart from the occasional nap in the late afternoon. Morning meant he could no longer pretend the evening would stretch on forever.

Killian watched as the fisherman trod along the weathered docks, their silent nods of acknowledgement when passing each other lasting only the briefest of moments. He wondered what camaraderie, if any, they shared beyond those perfunctory encounters. A bitter longing bubbled in his throat, a frown settling on his lips. What a funny thing it was for his fate to be entwined with people who would be hard-pressed to recognize his face.

There was only one man who had met his eyes that he could recall. The man he now watched tying knots in his fishing nets, bent at the waist. Months (years?) earlier they had crossed paths at some ungodly hour – the fisherman having just returned with his catch, Killian letting his feet lure him to the docks to listen to the water. Killian had picked up a length of rope the man had dropped, caught up with him and offered it. Something in the man’s face calmed him, eyes nearly the same shade of blue as his own. It was a hard-worn, weathered face; pride competing with kindness for prominence. He couldn’t remember if the man had spoken his thanks or merely nodded, but the gratitude was clear on his face.

The simple encounter dogged him ever since. A chance at friendship dashed away by his own ineptitude.  Killian wasn’t sure he knew what friendship was or how to obtain it, but he was annoyed he hadn’t even introduced himself. Now here he was, on the outskirts of life, spying on the world from his lighthouse. Here he was cursing himself for rebelling against a woman who spun fantastical tales of a world he was already a part of. A woman who appeared to have a vested interest in whisking him away from the infinite boredom of his daily life and for some godforsaken reason, he had preferred her to be mad.

A flash of golden hair snapped Killian out of his own thoughts. _Speak of the devil._ The very woman was striding confidently to the docks, all cherry red leather, denim, and determination. Emma Swan was introducing herself to the fisherman and, from the look of things, eliciting a _smile_.

Killian watched them, transfixed. Disturbed that a feeling as unfamiliar as jealousy would be pawing at him now. The introduction was rapidly giving way to _conversation_ , for fucks sake. The two tarried on the docks before the fisherman proceeded to lead Emma to his boat, proffering a hand to help her over the side. Henry was strangely absent from this adventure. Killian imagined the lad would have protested his not being invited. Watching the boat grow more and more distant left a fire buzzing in his blood; the anticipation of its return already in his bones.

Tea. He would make some bloody tea and maybe manage to eat something as interesting as a sandwich while he waited. Not that it was safe to assume what precisely he was waiting for. A beautiful though decidedly insane woman and a man who he once looked at were sharing a calming day at sea. Why should he care? Halfway through the peanut butter on rye he realized he definitely did.

Hours in his tower always passed without much fuss, no pomp or circumstance necessary when nothing of consequence ever happened. Killian sat slowly carving a figure into a piece of driftwood with his knife. Worry gnawed at him, the sort of indiscernible worry with no root in reality. The finished figure was full of curves and delicate flourish and he scoffed in surprise at the result – a tiny winged horse. Maybe the madness was catching around here.

The baseless worry throughout the bright sunshine of earlier was rapidly giving way to a tangible grey sky. Worse, the grey was deteriorating into a dark, ominous green. Panic fought for supremacy in his lungs as he scrambled to find the boat on the water. Day had turned into shadowy night in a matter of moments, thrusting cold terror into the very air. Killian hurried to turn on a beacon of light, desperate to put his futile existence to use. The beam cut through the clouds, catching the crests of the waves. He thundered down the stairs, heart in his throat.

Fear sat fat and leaden in his stomach as he ran towards the docks, legs weightless as they flew over the uneven ground. The boat inched mercifully closer in amidst the waves, its captain just visible if bedraggled, at the helm. Killian ran to drag the boat ashore.

Emma was unconscious in the man’s arms, wrapped in a navy peacoat. Her colourless skin sending Killian’s stomach into the ground.

**_“Emma!”_ **

“You know her?” The fisherman asked, eyes wild.

“Aye.” Killian took her limp body in his arms, hurrying to lay her down on drier ground.

“The storm came up so fast,” the man panted, every inch of him sopping wet. “Emma was knocked overboard. I still have no idea how I was able to find her amongst the waves.”

“Without that light,” he raised a shaky finger to the lighthouse, “we’d have surely never returned.”

Emma’s face was waxen now, nearly translucent. The chain of her necklace was impossibly cold against his skin as his hand brushed hair from her ear. “Emma,” Killian pleaded as he brought his lips to hers, breath willing life into her. With a jolt, consciousness fragmented into memory.  

_Cold, clear air filled his lungs, the sway of his arms causing the leather of his coat to creak. Emma was beside him with annoyance radiating from her very fingertips. Unease trickled into his veins as a woman confronted them in a taunting, reedy voice._

_“You can keep your magic which makes you oh so sad. Or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from.” The woman grinned, clearly pleased with herself._

_“Rumple?”_

_Killian was airborne a second before plunging headfirst into murky water. Pressure on the back of his neck held him down until his fight shuddered to a halt. The blackness went on forever; nothingness leeching into every part of him._

_A ghost of a voice broke through, insistent something must remain. “Killian, come back to me.”_

_His lungs burned as they purged water. Eyes flying open to the blue sky and Emma’s face distorted with concern._

_“What did you do? What did you **do**?”_

Killian let out a strangled cry as the sight of Emma’s face slid out of view; returned to the flesh and bone woman freezing under him. Centuries sped through his mind like cannonballs soaring through the air. Every ounce of suffering seeped from his skin as he crushed his face to Emma’s forehead. _Emma._ Emma had come to find him. She had come and he had _lost_ her.

Emma convulsed, water coughed out of her lungs. Her eyes searched wildly for a minute before a faint smile graced her blue lips at the scene in front of her.

“Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoping to wrap this one up soon.. any feedback is loved


End file.
